


our big, happy family

by ghettoblasterz



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, And Lots of It, Blood and Gore, Bombs, Bugs & Insects, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Violence, Drug Use, Horror, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Torture, Minor Character Death, Near Death Experiences, Possession, Psychological Horror, Psychological Torture, Survival Horror, Temporary Amnesia, Vomiting, Warnings May Change, You Have Been Warned, lucas is a goddamn creep, ngl this is tame for the re7 fandom, one hell of a tag list, plenty of em
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29549676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghettoblasterz/pseuds/ghettoblasterz
Summary: "You're gonna have a little sister, Zoe."Zoe, Mia, and Lucas are left grasping for normalcy after a storm leaves the Baker family turned on their heads.Eveline will do whatever it takes to keep them as her submissive subjects.
Kudos: 2





	our big, happy family

**Author's Note:**

> hello resident evil fandom ive finally arrived! hopefully this will be updated again soon!
> 
> current warnings:  
> intense violence, referenced incest, murder, kidnapping, torture, domestic violence, lots and lots of vomiting. ya know, fun resident evil stuff.

Warm rain pattering against the window. That’s the last thing Zoe remembered before the breaking news, moments before the girl arrived. 

Who knew that Southern hospitality would kill the Bakers?

“Any news on the storm?” her mother asked, peeking her head into the living room.

“Hardly. Winds sure haven’t stopped.”

“Oh, sweetpea,” she sighed. “I reckon it won’t for quite some time. One hell of a cleanup this gon’ leave us to do.”

“Mhm.”

Pounding sounded from the dining room door. 

“Marguerite, open up! Found anotha one.”

It was Zoe’s father. Ever since he stumbled upon their first guest, he’d been running out every few minutes to look for any more stranded near the bayou. It seemed his hunch had saved another life. Zoe’s daddy was a hero. In her twenty years of living, she’d never looked up to somebody more.

“I’ma comin’,” Marguerite huffed, bustling her way to the tall double-doors, faded and yellowed from their many years of service.

She pulled them open, beckoning in a rain-soaked Jack Baker, a wet lump of a girl nestled in his arms. She looked so tiny and frail against Jack’s huge frame. Zoe stood up and rushed to her mama’s side.

Marguerite gasped, clutching her invisible pearls. “Oh--Oh my! Why, she’s so young!”

“Found the poor girl all huddled up by a busted tanker out in the marsh. Cain’t be older than ten, I reckon.”

“Oh, you sweet thing,” Marguerite fawned, running her fingers through the girl’s hair. They caught in a clump of black goo that dripped down her fingers. “There must have been some kinda oil spill.”

“Reckon she came with the woman you found earlier?” Zoe asked, looking up at her father.

“Cain’t say, honey. We can sure ask our guest in the morning after she gets some rest. Not sure why she insisted on sleepin’ out in the trailer. Must be all shy-like. For now, let’s get the lil’ one cleaned up, yeah? Maybe a fresh change ‘o’ clothes?”

“We’ll put her in Lucas’s old room.”

Lucas and Zoe had shared the upstairs bedroom when they were growing up. In fact, Zoe’s old twin bed was still in there! She moved out of there when she turned twelve; they’d pitched the idea of moving Lucas to a different room and he cried and heaved until his tear ducts ran dry. So Zoe got herself a new room.

Marguerite glanced behind her to Lucas, who Zoe had hardly noticed before now. The guy was louder than a herd of charging rhinos when he wanted to be but just about as silent as a mouse in liminal spaces. Ironically, he was slumped against the doorframe to the kitchen, glued to his phone. He held it pressed to his chest like he was constantly viewing porn. (He probably was.)

For the first time since supper, he raised his voice. “Aw, come on. Cain’t you put her somewhere else?”

“Where else? This house is ninety percent hallway,” Zoe snickered.

“Now, Lucas, you just hush. You’ve long outgrown that room,” Jack replied.

Lucas grumbled, kicking out his foot and staring back down at his phone.

“I’ma go take this girl upstairs.”

“Draw a bath, why don’t you? This girl needs a scrub.”

“Great idea, honey,” Jack grinned, kissing Marguerite’s forehead. “Aw, I always wanted to run a bed ‘n’ breakfast.”

“Gotcha big break, didn't ya?”

Jack chucked and headed for the stairs, his rain boots thumping across the plywood and leaving wet rings in his trail.

“I’ll put some soup on!” Marguerite called after him. She turned and made for the kitchen; Lucas lazily blocked the way. “Lucas, would you please?”

He glanced at her and mumbled something under his breath, sliding out of the doorway. He slumped down at the table.

Like any little sister, Zoe took every opportunity to antagonize her big brother. She came around the table and wrapped her arms over his shoulders, staring right down at his phone. Her friendly attack was perfectly timed with him unlocking his device; she could clearly see the password the moment it flashed on the screen.

_ 1014. _

“How’s my favorite brother?” she sang, rocking him back and forth.

“Zoe, will you get out my face?” he groaned.

“Aw, I love you too. Don’t worry; if there were any other contenders, you’d be winnin’ the consolation prize.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Marguerite turned off the faucet and spun to face them. “Zoe, quit antagonizing your brother. How about you go grab that girl a change of clothes?”

“Go make yourself useful ‘fore she gets that shit all over my old room.”

“ _ Our  _ old room. Oh, okay. I’ll go easy on ya, then,” Zoe smiled, standing up. “On it, Mama.”

Lucas was a sensitive subject---literally. Given his behavioral issues as a child, the family learned to walk on eggshells around him, to be a little more gentle with Lucas than they would be with any other brat who mouthed them off. But Zoe couldn’t resist teasing him every now and again, even as adults. Considering the shit he dished her every day, he should’ve been lucky she was a kind, family-lovin’ gal.

She stood up and exited from the same door as her father did, walking past the stairs and to the laundry room. She knelt down and opened the dryer, fishing around for something to suit the little girl. She eventually settled on her pink and yellow pajamas. This girl needed them more than she did right now.

She headed up the stairs, ducking into the bathroom first to set up a bath for the girl. Her daddy had already run the water, so she moved to the vanity and fished around for the soaps and whatnot; that oil was gonna take some serious scrubbing to get off. She pulled open the top drawer, looking for a washcloth, but furrowed her brow upon noticing something else in its place. 

“The hell?” she mumbled, picking up a shiny red component. It looked to be something of Lucas’s. The guy always left mechanical pieces around the house, but never before in the bathroom drawer!

She slipped it into the pocket of her jeans and carried on, running back downstairs for towels and washcloths, before setting everything out on the floor by the tub; the towels and cloth, a change of clothes, soap, conditioner, and shampoo. 

She headed to her brother’s old room, but couldn’t help feeling uneasy as she inched down the hallway. The wind whipped outside, shaking loose shackles on the roof. 

Her father was waiting for her in Lucas’s old room; maybe Zoe shouldn’t have taken so long to get there. The little girl was curled up on Lucas’s old twin-sized bed. Her father stood over her, watching with sorrowful eyes.

“Honey,” Jack started, up from his daze. He walked towards Zoe. “Get this girl cleaned up and into some clean clothes. I’ma go check on the boathouse; it was half underwater last I looked.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He walked past her and out the door, closing it behind him out of habit.

Zoe eyed the frail girl with caution at first, but shook away the thought.  _ Don’t be stupid, Zoe. She’s just a girl and you got a job to do. _

But she didn’t want to wake the girl yet. She hadn’t been in Lucas’s old room in a long while, and figured it wouldn’t be the end of the world to let the girl sleep a bit longer while she snooped around. She vividly remembered Lucas inventing a way to seal off the entrance to the attic so that he could do God knows what up there. She wondered if she could find a way to sneak up there before handling the child.

The room was filled with old junk that Lucas didn’t care to bring around with him. Old sports memorabilia lined the walls; he’d never been a sports junkie, but Daddy and Uncle Joe loved football and pushed him into the hobby for a bit. In hindsight, considering Lucas’s frontal lobe issues, maybe football wasn’t the brightest choice.

Lucas moved away from football once he reached high school. That’s when he actively pursued inventing as a hobby; he’d spend sleepless nights inventing contraptions that the rest of the family couldn’t comprehend. Jack and Marguerite bought him a laptop for his fourteenth birthday, and he’d been inventing and coding ever since.

Zoe picked up one of the trophies on the right side of the room, where she used to sleep. There was a lampshade over it for some odd reason.

_ 2nd place _

_ Dulvey Inventors Competition  _

Zoe peeked up under the lampshade and spied a little slot underneath a lightbulb. Since when did he turn this thing into a lamp? She remembered the component in her pocket and reached for it. If it went anywhere, it would probably fit there.

She reached up into the lamp and fit it into place. It matched the hole perfectly, giving under her finger--it really was a button! A crash came from above, and the ladder to the attic came sliding down, hitting the ground with a  _ thud. _

Zoe’s eyes lit up.

_ Hold on just a minute, little girl. _

She stepped to the ladder, wrapping her hands around two rungs. She climbed to the top, shimmying her way to the top platform that made up the attic. It smelled of mothballs and dust bunnies up there.

Lucas’s laptop sat open on the desk in the back. What the hell was that doing up there? Had Lucas been there today? Next to the laptop was a book with a faux leather cover. Zoe picked it up, flipping to the first page.

_ PROPERTY OF LUCAS J. BAKER _

_ DO NOT READ!!!!!!!!!!!! _

_ 2008 _

Shit, this thing was a relic! Zoe shoved it into her waistband for some light-reading later. Now it was time to see the  _ really  _ juicy stuff.

She looked down at the laptop and jiggled the cursor, heaving a sigh. Password protected. So much for her indulgent snooping.

She started typing in random numbers. 2378. Nope. 7893. Nope. 0621. Nope. Before she could make another failed attempt, a lightbulb flickered on in her head.

His phone password!

What was that? 1014?

She entered in the code, and burst into a grin as the screen flashed a lovely “Password Accepted” window her way. Lucas had to have been on it that day, because Zoe found a Google Docs tab opened in windowed mode as soon as the laptop let her onto the home screen, titled  _ THE FUCK-YOU LIST.  _ Classy.

_ THE FUCK-YOU LIST (Oct. 2014 Edition) _

_ 10/1 - The old man slapped me right in the face for checking my phone during dinner. Fuck You! _

_ 10/3 - I can't say one word about Mama's cooking without getting yelled at! Fuck You! _

_ 10/5 - All I did was look in on Zoe when she was doing yoga, and she calls me a pervert. Fuck You! _

Zoe grimaced. Fucking weirdo.

_ 10/6 - The old man got drunk and started throwing all my crap in that red box out on the veranda. _

_ FUCK YOU! _

Red box on the veranda. She’d have to remember to check that out after the storm. 

The diary was enough for Zoe. She’d feel rotten leaving the little girl all grimy curled up in bed any longer. She turned off Lucas’s laptop and started back down the ladder; the faux leather on the diary creaked against her skin.

Zoe approached the bed, watching the girl’s chest rise and fall as she slept. Her face was pale like porcelain, cheeks rouged only by windburn. Her hair was almost as dark as Zoe’s, except much, much longer, down to her upper back.

Zoe shook the girl’s shoulder. Her skin was like ice. “C’mon, lil’ girl. Let’s get you washed up.”

The girl woke up as if on cue. She sat upright, staring into Zoe’s eyes with frigid determination. She flatly stated, “They’re mine now.”

“What?”

A crash of thunder outside. The lights in the house flicked off simultaneously. The little girl giggled, her footsteps charging out of the room and down the hallway. Zoe gasped.

“Damn breaker prolly blew,” she mumbled. She fished her zippo out of her pocket and flicked it on, hustling out of the room. “Daddy? Mama? Is the power out?”

She walked to the stairs, the floorboard creaking with each step. “Where’d that little girl get to?”

A crash resounded from the floor below. Zoe flew down the stairs to see the kitchen table flipped onto its side, the chairs strewn about the room, and Lucas lying face-down on the floor.

She rushed to his side, shaking his shoulders. “Lucas! Are you okay? Lucas? Wake up!”

He didn’t so much as stir. Zoe could see his body rising and falling as he breathed...At least he wasn’t dead. Maybe this was some kind of episode? An epileptic episode? (Is that what those things looked like?) Lucas had epilepsy, sure, but he’d never done something like this. It was like somebody smacked him upside the head with a frying pan and shoved over the table on their way out.

Zoe’s lungs were sputtering, working at their bare minimum. “What the hell is goin’ on?”

“I know, yes. I know, cher,” a voice mumbled from the floor above. 

It was Marguerite!

“Mama?” Zoe asked aloud. She turned and ran up the stairs again. Light from a lantern illuminated the wall, disappearing with a squeak as Marguerite slipped down the hallway. It sounded like she entered the bathroom.

“Wait!” Zoe called.

The bathroom light shone through the crack between the door and the frame. Zoe cautiously stepped to it, jumping when her lighter sputtered and gave out.

_ Stupid thing. You’re my favorite for why exactly? _

“Yes. Yes, all are welcome. I know. Thank you, cher. Thank you.”

Zoe creaked open the bathroom door. Her mother stood at the bathtub, staring into the corner of the room, her back to the door. Her lantern sat burning at her feet.

“Mama? Is that you?” Zoe asked.

“Come look, Zoe,” Marguerite whispered. “Come see her gift.”

Zoe stepped closer. “What are you talking about?”

A cockroach crawled over her mother’s shoulder, snaking underneath her arm.

“Come look at all the pretties my little girl has  _ given me!” _

Marguerite swung around and grabbed Zoe by the shoulders. Bugs flew from her mouth; cockroaches, spiders, flies, bees, lightning bugs, shooting forward and buzzing around Zoe’s head. She felt pricks against her skin and bugs nesting themselves in her hair. Laying on Marguerite’s tongue was a huge, fat centipede, swinging around in her mouth like it was threatening to jump right out. It reared up at Zoe, waving its little legs. She screeched, trying desperately to push her mother away.

“Accept her gift, Zoe! Don’t be rude!”

“Stop it, Mama!”

Jack intercepted the two, throwing himself onto Marguerite. He gripped her arms as she gnashed her teeth and spat at him.

“Marguerite, what the hell?!” Jack yelled, angling his head away from her bug-filled mouth.

“ _ Kiss me, lover!” _

Jack turned to Zoe, screaming as Marguerite spent every last ounce of energy he had, “Get to the garage! Get some rope! Go!  _ Now!”  _

He slammed the door shut with his foot.

Too much adrenaline coursed through Zoe’s veins to let her cry. She flicked on her zippo, sprinted as fast as the flame would allow down the stairs, and ducked into the garage entryway, hurrying down those stairs as well. She slammed her palm onto the garage door-opener. The door squeaked, slowly craning open. She waited with baited breath until she could crawl under the door on her hands and knees.

New red-nylon rope hung on one of Jack’s tool racks next to the car. Zoe stumbled to her feet and snatched it, before turning and running all the way back upstairs. 

She paused near the door, which was mysteriously ajar. From the bathroom she could hear grunting and sputtering, sounds of water splashing and hitting the tile. She peeked around the doorframe, sliding her zippo into her pocket. 

Jack held Marguerite by the hair and shoved her head underneath the water. She smacked the side of the tub, screaming under the surface; dead bugs floated to the top of the top as Jack shook her, violently jostling her head around in the water. He pulled her up for a moment to mutter  _ something something BITCH  _ in her ear; Marguerite probably couldn’t hear him over her gasping for air. Before Zoe could blink, Jack forced Marguerite under the water again.

Zoe pushed the door all the way open. “Daddy, stop it!”

Jack turned to face her, tightening his grip on Marguerite’s hair as he pulled her up. He grinned, but his mouth looked all wrong; his teeth were too sharp, his lips weren’t quite curled up enough, and his  _ eyes.  _ His eyes were wide open but glassy...They looked completely vacant, void of any soul or humanity.

“Don’t you worry, Zoe. It’s a whole lot worse than it looks!”

He dunked Marguerite again.

“Cleanliness is next to godliness, and your mother is pretty fuckin’ close to meetin’ Him right now.”

“Stop it! Stop right now!” 

Jack threw Marguerite against the tub, turning his attention to his twenty-year-old daughter. He grabbed her by the shoulder, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a pocket knife.

“She wants me to do this,” he huffed. He flicked the blade out of its casing. The sharp metal shone in the pale, fluorescent lighting. With a grunt, he plunged the knife into his heart, carving a diagonal slit through his chest. Blood splattered all over him and Zoe. The walls, the floors, even the ceiling, were now painted with metallic red specks and spatters. “She wants us  _ all  _ to show her our love. You don’t wanna disappoint her, now do ya?”

“Who are you talking about?” Zoe sobbed.

“Your new sister  _ Evie!” _

Jack shoved her, sending her flying down the hallway. She scrambled to her feet, clutching the rope in her hands.

Jack snarled at her. “When I ask for rope, I expect to get rope!”

“But Daddy--”

“--I’ma just gon’ have to teach you a lesson, girl.”

He stomped towards her, each painfully slow step sending blood gushing from his open wound.

“Daddy! What’s gotten into you?” Zoe cried, backing away slowly.

“Under my roof you’ll obey my rules, you hear me?”

Zoe dashed into the recreation room. She slammed the door behind her and tied the knob to the door latch with the red rope. Her father pounded on the wood, the shock sending her flying back into the pool table.

“Zoe!  _ Open this door. _ ”

“Get away!”

She sprinted to the window; the only way out of the room. It had been boarded up for the storm, but the wind could have knocked it loose. She could still have a chance!

She pulled on the wooden plank. It hardly budged.

“You can’t keep me out!” Jack roared, kicking the door. Thankfully, it was just as stubborn as the plank. 

Zoe sobbed, “Leave me alone, Daddy!”

She pulled harder, bracing herself against the wall with her foot.

_ POUND POUND POUND!!! _

The nails started to loosen, undoubtedly from her sheer willpower. She grunted, kicking against the wall. One nail popped out.

“I’ll--I’ll huff ‘n’ I’ll fuckin’ puff!”

The board was almost fully freed now. Zoe cried out as the board snapped off of the window and sent her flying backwards into the bar. Her father threw himself into the door, bursting into the room. He flashed Zoe an eerie grin, blood dripping from a new gash in his forehead. 

“Heeeeere’s  _ Daddy!  _ You’ve been a bad girl, Zoe,” he chuckled, taking strides towards her.

Zoe dove out the window. With any luck, Jack would remember his size and not attempt to follow her.

“Zoe! Get yo’ ass back in here!” he boomed.

Zoe flattened herself against the wall, breathing in the hot, fishy air outside.

“I’m comin’ back for you,'' Jack said in a growl. His thunderous footsteps grew quieter, but Zoe didn’t dare climb back in through the window.

The veranda was sopping wet, dripping with rain. She tiptoed along it like she was walking a tight-rope, like one stumble would be her demise.

The veranda. That red box, the box with Lucas’s things! Maybe she could find something to help! Lucas had never made a helpful project in his life, but Zoe couldn’t lose hope yet. She scurried to the other end of the veranda. Boards and sheets of metal leaned against one another, blocking the way; she pried them apart, gasping when she set her eyes on the red box. She shimmied past a metal sheet and grabbed the latch. She rifled through the contents of the box, utterly dissatisfied with what she found. Shitty tools, spools of wire...What the hell could she do with that? 

She felt firm, cold metal against her hand. One of the dog head reliefs? How did that end up here?

The door in the main hall needed reliefs to be opened; Marguerite had been worried about burglars and Lucas had a lot of time on his hands. Maybe she could find a way to sneak through the hall and get to the backyard!

Zoe pulled her lighter out of her pocket, flicked it on, and wedged the dog head in its place. Lucas’s diary was still wedged between her jeans and her side. She fell to her hands and knees and started pulling at one of the sheets of metal fastened to the wall; poorly at that, Zoe would add. Inside, she heard sounds of a struggle. 

Lucas? What were they doing to Lucas?

Zoe wedged her head in the newly made hole in the house’s defenses.

“What the hell, Dad?!” Lucas seethed. He was lying belly-up on the floor, thrashing wildly as Jack pulled him down the hallway by his ankle. “Dammit, Dad!”

Lucas landed a kick on Jack’s stomach. His father huffed a laugh and opened the door to Lucas’s old room, dragging him into it with a giggled, “ Let me tell you somethin’, boy. You’re gonna be her big brother.”

“Get offa me!”

The door slammed closed. Lucas cried out through gritted teeth.

“C’mon, boy,” Jack ordered, “accept her gift!”

Zoe couldn’t hear much else, only strangled chokes.

Could she really just leave Lucas with him? What if he was going to kill her brother? Was there anything she could do?

_ Why was this happening? _

“I’m sorry, Lucas,” Zoe sighed, slipping her body through the hole and creeping towards the door to the main hall. Lucas was capable. He’d be alright, right?

She opened the new door before her and slipped into the main hall; a colossal room that had been reduced to a liminal space as of late. She was just about to creep down the stairs when she caught sight of her mother inching around the room, her squeaky old lantern swarmed by bugs of all shapes and sizes. Zoe capped her lighter.

“I know you’re in here, cher,” Marguerite said, waving her lantern around the floor. “Just come on out now! Everything’s alright.”

Zoe shook her head to herself. Nothing about this was alright.

She began crawling down the stairs, eyeing her mother’s twitching, hunched over form carefully.

“You’re gonna have a little sister, Zoe. Our little miracle!”

Marguerite stepped into the alcove in the back of the room, where the family heirloom sat perched on an old bust of a soldier. Jack’s father’s old shotgun that’d been passed down generation to generation resided in the Baker household; although Jack had an older brother, Joe Baker, Joe decided that the gun belonged with its property, which Jack inherited after his father’s passing.

Zoe didn’t like that alcove. That bust had appeared in one too many of her nightmares. But none of those silly dreams could compare to the terror of what she’d seen that night; the terror of watching bugs ripple beneath her mother’s blouse like muscles, the terror of hearing the squeaks and groans escaping her mother’s snarling mouth, the terror of watching her father drag her brother away while he kicked and swung, the terror of watching the knife plunge into her father’s heart, tearing through muscle and displacing his flesh like a boat on water out in the bayou, or the terror of watching the light behind her father and mother’s eyes dissipate, leaving the same icy darkness that she’d seen when that little bitch sat up and met her gaze.

Nothing could top that fear.

Zoe took Marguerite’s distraction as an opportunity to run. She climbed down the rest of the stairs and crawled behind the table in the center of the room.

Marguerite turned around, shining warm light beside the table. “Come out and play, Zoe!”

Zoe held her breath. She couldn’t allow herself to make even the smallest peep.

“Now you’re making me mad!” Marguerite screamed. She stomped her foot on the ground; the noise echoed in the hollow hall. “Don’t be a fuckin’ brat!” 

She let out a frustrated curse and ran up the stairs. “You know I’m gonna find you in the end! Come out this instant! You hear me? Are you up here, you rotten bitch?!”

Zoe sprinted for the main hall door. She delved into her pocket and retrieved the dog head relief, fitting it into the slot on the door. The other two heads were already in place to create a portrait of Cerberus that Lucas designed.

Lucas had always loved dogs; big scary ones, at that. When he found out about Cerberus, the three headed beast, Zoe remembered how ferociously he’d rambled on and on about it to her, some late summer night as they laid awake in their room. She didn’t remember a thing about Cerberus. She only remembered how excited her big brother sounded talking about it, how funny the big words he used sounded coming out of such a small boy. She giggled to herself as she stared at the ceiling, but Lucas didn’t understand what was so funny. He picked up his pillow and chucked it at her head.

Zoe pursed her lips to avoid a squealed sob, pushing open the door and slamming it behind her. She rushed out into the rain, stopping before the trailer parked ahead. She stared up at the cloudy night sky and cried, her hair flattening against her forehead, sopping with rainwater. She almost forgot where she was, or that she was even a person; for a moment, it all felt like a dream. None of this was real. The bust with the shotgun was just haunting her nightmares again. She’d wake up any moment to Lucas jostling her shoulder, half paying attention to her, half paying attention to his phone. He’d tell her the beauty-sleep approach to life wasn’t doing her mug much good, and that she should come downstairs for coffee. Mama made breakfast and Daddy wanted to see his baby girl before he headed off to work for the day. She’d turn over and tell Lucas ‘anotha five minutes…’ and trail back off to sleep. Then Lucas would grumble and pull her up out of bed so as to not stir any trouble with the old folks. Zoe would lean against him and let him awkwardly guide her sleepy ass down the stairs; she’d only half-listen as Lucas reprimanded her for staying up so late, that she was irresponsible, and that he shouldn’t have had to walk his butt all the way upstairs to pull his little sister out of bed at the age of twenty. But he still did it, only because he loved her. And that Zoe should thank her lucky stars she had such a great big brother to keep her in check all these years…

“Zoe!”

Zoe snapped out of her reverie, turning back to the house. Lucas stood at the door with his hood pulled over his head. Blood stained his face and soaked the neck of his hoodie.

“Lucas!” Zoe cried. “We have to get out of here!”

“Now why the hell would we do that?” Lucas scoffed. He started down the steps.

“That bitch of a girl did something to Mama and Daddy! Evie, that bitch Evie!”

“You callin’ my little sister a bitch?” Lucas said in a quiet voice; low, animalistic. Like a dog.

“That thing ain’t yer sister!  _ I’m  _ yer sister!”

“Shut up! She has a gift for you, Zoe! Accept her fuckin’ gift!”

_ Not him, too! _

Lucas lunged forward, pouncing on top of Zoe. The two hit the ground with an unceremonious  _ thud  _ and  _ ugh. _ She screamed, trying to squirm onto her stomach, but Lucas had her pinned. He reared back with his fist and punched her square in the face, grinning as she cried out in pain. Zoe tasted metal. She felt the diary flop out from her waistband and settle somewhere in the mud.

“Lucas, stop it! Let me go!”

“Eveline wants me to help you accept the gift! So I’ll help ya alright!”

“What gift?” Zoe squeaked. 

Lucas landed another punch to her jaw.

“Stupid bitch of a sister, you are!”

Zoe brought up her knee, striking Lucas in the abdomen. He fell backwards and splashed in a muddy puddle, giving Zoe just enough time to scramble to her feet before he charged her again. She caught his palms and held them over his head, pushing him back with all her might. He howled with sadistic laughter, spitting in her face.

Water droplets rested on his eyelashes, glinting in the cold, dark tint of his eyes. That same cold glint Mama, Daddy, and that Eveline thing bore. Whatever it was, it wasn’t human. Not even alien. Just...something. Something impossible.

Lucas threw her arms to the side and shoved her, sending her flying into the tree behind them. Zoe’s bare arms scraped against the bark; she felt hot scratches running up her forearms.

“You ain’t got no manners, Zoe,” Lucas huffed, adjusting his hoodie. “None at all! Makin’ us all look bad! Yer hurtin’ the girl’s feelings, ya know!”

Zoe’s eyes shifted to the porch. The little girl stood just below the flood light, soaked in rain, with a grin plastered across her face. She made no sound, but Zoe could hear her in her mind. 

“Sister,” she cooed, “I have a gift for you. Accept it.”

She blinked, and everything went dark. When her eyes opened, she was staring down at Lucas, who laid writhing on the wet, uncut lawn. Her arms felt like thirty pound weights, and her head was pounding worse than it ever had.

“Aw, Jesus, Zoe! What the hell was that for?” Lucas seethed, squeezing his hand between his thighs. “You goddamn animal!”

His voice wasn’t all hoarse anymore. Even his eyes almost looked...normal again.

“What?” she mumbled.

The girl wasn’t on the porch anymore. She’d vanished as quickly as she’d appeared.

“Kicked me in ma damn balls! Ain’t you ever learn how to fight fair?”

Zoe huffed. “I did?”

“Like hell you did! Man, you’re lookin’ dinged up. When...When the hell did we get out here? It’s still stormin’!”

Zoe felt her heart racing. She had to be going crazy. “Wh--What’s goin’ on?”

Lucas massaged his thigh, stumbling to his feet. “I dunno. I reckon we went at it pretty good though, huh?”

“No, no, no--Get away from me,” Zoe said, backing up against the tree.

“What are you on about?”

Eveline stood behind him, cocking her head to the side.

“You! You’re the one doin’ all this!” Zoe cried, pointing at the apparition.

Lucas looked around. “Who are you talkin’ to? How hard did I hit yer head?”

Eveline smiled. “I can make him hurt you. I can make him kill you.”

Zoe stared at Lucas. “You can’t! Please!”

“Accept my gift, Sister,” Eveline demanded. “Or Brother is gonna make you.”

“My head is killin’ me,'' Lucas mumbled. “Oh man, I’m right dizzy, Zoe. The hell did you do to me? You ain’t fight fair, not at all! I’ll show you a dirty fight, then. Oh, yer fuckin’ screwed!”

Zoe took off running. She sprinted straight past Lucas and Eveline to the trailer, fumbling at the latch.

“Get back here, Zoe! You and I ain’t done talking!” Lucas called after her.

The hoarse, Evil Lucas voice was back. This wasn’t Zoe’s brother; this was the little girl’s puppet. And Puppet Lucas was  _ pissed _ .

Zoe slipped into the trailer and slammed the door behind her, locking both locks on the door. She could hear Lucas cursing outside, then a sudden silence. He’d left, it seemed. Guess Zoe somehow wasn’t top priority.

“This can’t be real,” Zoe said, wiping her eyes. She looked around the trailer. Their other guest was there! She was passed out on the ground in front of a strange looking box, clad in jeans and a muddy white shirt, holding some sort of skeleton-thingy in her hand. Zoe bent down to investigate, moving a lock of the girl’s brunette curls to get a better look at the object. It almost looked to be a fetus-sized skeleton, curled up in a ball. 

How disgusting! She just carried that thing around?

There was a note attached to the strange box on the table. Zoe picked it up, straining her eyes to try and make out the messy scribbles.

_ To the Baker Family, _

_ Thank you for saving my life. But please forget all about me. I was assigned to transport some important cargo on that ship. Getting involved with me, or that cargo, can only cause trouble for your family. Big trouble. _

_ Please don't contact the police or state authorities. Just pretend we never met. _

_ And... you saved me, so take this advice in return. If you see a girl near the ship who looks about ten years old, DO NOT approach her. If she talks to you, get away as quickly as you can. Just try not to make her angry in the process. If you've been feeling ill at all, then I'm afraid the worst may already have happened. _

_ It's a fate worse than death, and it can't be cured at a hospital. I'm so sorry. _

_ There is a way to stop it, though. Serum. If you inje stop the symp _

Zoe couldn’t make out the rest of the writing. It was soaked with ink.

What did this mean? A fate worse than death?

How do you cure this...virus? Could it be called a virus?

Zoe set the paper back on the desk and turned for the bed on the other side of the trailer.

Before she could move, Eveline grabbed her arm, squeezing it between her cold, gray fingers. She burst into laughter as Zoe screamed, trying desperately to pull away. 

Zoe felt hot.  _ Burning  _ hot. Her arm was scalding but freezing cold all at once. Eveline squeezed harder.

Then everything went dark.

Zoe awoke with a gasp. She sat at the kitchen table in the main house, basking in the morning sunlight. Lucas sat to her left, staring at his phone. Her father was just sitting down in front of her, and Marguerite fixed up something at the peninsula.

“I…” Zoe huffed, “I think I fell asleep.”

Jack grinned at her. A normal, warm grin, not fueled by murderous rage.

“Well, well, now look who’s decided to join us!” he laughed.

“Wake up ‘n smell the shitty coffee, Zoe,” Lucas mumbled.

Jack glared at him. “Lucas.”

Marguerite waddled over from the peninsula, holding a tray with mugs of coffee perched on it. She dispersed them between Lucas, Jack, Zoe, and herself. “You alright, cher? There was a lot of excitement after that storm last night.”

Zoe felt her breath starting to regulate. “I’m...fine. I had the weirdest damn dream last night, is all. There was this little girl--”

“--Well, after breakfast, Lucas and I are gonna go have a look at the boathouse to see if the storm did any damage,” Jack interrupted, looking over at his wife. “You two should do the same here.”

“That’s a good idea, Jack,” Marguerite smiled, sipping her coffee. “Especially if this was anything like that last storm. We thought we were lucky, and there was a mess for sure!”

The little girl materialized behind Zoe’s parents. Zoe whimpered, but no one flinched, or even remotely reacted to her shock. 

Eveline stood perfectly still.

Everything went dark again. Only Zoe and Eveline remained in a void. Eveline grinned at her, tilting her head to the side, letting her clumpy, wet hair fall over her face.

“Hello, Sister.”


End file.
